


My Stepford Wife

by Jay2Noir



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Stepford Wives (1975)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt, Emotions, Hostage Situations, Other, Pastiche, Regret, Stabbing, Stepford wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27980085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay2Noir/pseuds/Jay2Noir
Summary: Benjamin Solo is lured to Stepford, Connecticut under the guise that it was just a regular, quiet town. However, he has no idea what kind of horrors wait for him and, more specifically, his wife behind the mysterious doors of the Men's Association.
Relationships: Ben Solo/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	My Stepford Wife

**Author's Note:**

> This was a project I turned in for a writing course I took this fall. I'm incredibly proud of how it came out and I had to share. See the end for my professor's comment when she graded it.  
> I originally wanted to write this just for a fanfiction but when I heard my final project had to be a continuation of one of the novels we read I jumped on it. The only change I made was the last name for the Solo's. My professor knows I love Kylo Ren, but I didn't want to be -that- nerdy person and literally submit this as Ben and Valorie Solo lol.

From the ashes of Joanna Eberhart rose Walter Eberhart’s very own Stepford Wife. The imitation looked exactly like her in the face, but was different in every other way imaginable. She was taller, bustier, neater, cleaner, quieter, and, by the Men’s Association’s standards, perfect. The murder, the disposal of her body, and the assembly of the hyperrealistic doll that was based off of the late Mrs. Eberhart was witnessed start to finish by a new man, one that had been lured into town by one of his previous colleagues and a current Men’s Association member. Benjamin Solo had no idea what he was getting into when he sold his previous home in Pennsylvania to come be closer to one of his closest friends in Stepford Connecticut and, had he known he was walking his beloved wife into a death trap, he never would have agreed to the move at all.

Valorie Solo was everything Ben ever wanted and more. She was intelligent, she kept busy, and she was a very doting and dutiful wife that he would never regret spending the rest of his life with. Together, the two of them lead a beautiful, yet hectic life. With Ben working full time as a lawyer and Valorie working part time as a chef at a five star restaurant, the two of them rarely had time to share together. She worked less hours a day than he, but every night Ben would always come home to a kitchen full of delicious, often homemade and homegrown food, and a wife that loved him. He knew the current standard was not in favor of his wife having a job outside of the home, but what did it matter? The two of them had decided not to have children and, although Valorie did sometimes neglect her household duties due to fatigue or just laziness, it didn’t matter to Ben. Dirty dishes piled in the sink never killed anyone. Laundry that had to be washed twice in a row could be fixed the next day. The bed didn’t have to be made up when he was just going to jump right back into it in a matter of hours to sleep. He was happy to pick up where Valorie left off when he needed to, and Valorie thanked him by being so agreeable when he needed her to be.

Ben had brought the idea of moving up only in jest. He watched as Valorie looked around their home over a plate of baked sweet potatoes, salisbury steak, and home grown green beans, then flashed her golden brown eyes back to him and smiled adorably before saying something Ben never imagined:

“I think that would be a wonderful idea,” She said before cutting  into her steak and taking a bite . Ben stared back at her confused. She was never one to make such rash decisions, so Ben believed there must have been something deeper that he was missing.  Through a little more conversation he learned that Valorie had, indeed, been yearning to move out of her home state of Pennsylvania, but had never brought it up to Ben because she didn’t want to uproot him when he had worked so hard and established himself there . A nervous grin spread over his face as he stared back at his loving, beautiful  wife. That settled it then. In just a few short months the family of two would pack up and start a new life in Stepford Connecticut, and their lives would be changed far more than what they expected.

Once presented with what the Men’s Association expected of him, Ben originally refused. He pointed accusingly across the room at his now ex friend and colleague and told him he was lured here and there was no way he could murder his wife and replace her with a cold, unforgiving, expensive toy.  As he sweated there under the dim lights of the meeting room , one man broke out in a chuckle. Then another one laughed along with him, and another, and another until the entire room had broken out in an uproar of laughter at him. He felt as if he were being stoned to death under the scrutinizing gaze of everyone around him, and when the crowd finally broke Dale “Diz” Coba began to zero in on him.

“Oh, Mr. Solo,” He purred, stepping up to him with his hands behind his back and a threatening grin upon his face. “You don’t understand. You’ve seen too much. This is a town  _ tradition.  _ We can’t simply let you and your wife go.” He explained smoothly,  sending goosebumps up Ben’s arms.

_A tradition. Sickening!_ He thought to himself. He carefully and quietly explained that he didn’t have to and wouldn’t tell anyone else, not his new neighbors when he moved back to Pennsylvania, not his colleagues at his old job, not his friends and family, and definitely not the police, but the other men flock around him and he was horrified to see Diz produce a large knife from his coat pocket. 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” He murmured into Ben’s ear while pressing the tip of the blade into his midsection. “What can happen to the women can also certainly happen to the men. And how foolish would it be to have two animatronics running a home together?”  A single tear ran down Ben’s face as he realized there was no way out. The Men’s Association contained men of nearly every profession: private detectives, policemen, butchers, garbagemen, and so on. These were all men that could definitely bring harm to both he and his wife no matter where they went. He had no choice but to comply. 

The night comes just a few weeks later. The group insisted that they be around to assist in the murder and disposal of his wife, but Ben managed to talk them out of it. This entire time he had hoped to find a way out of this hellish nightmare, and by ending her life in private he thought he would have that much more time to buy in saving her and himself. He stood behind her, the same knife Diz had threatened him with tucked safely in his back pocket. He thought about confiding in her, about confessing and running away with her, but it felt so unsafe. He could feel a lump in his throat as he realized he had failed her, and failed her so hard. What kind of husband would he be once he plunged the knife into her chest and watched the life drain from her face? He grips the knife as he whispers her name.

_I can’t do this._ He thinks to himself, looking away as she whips around to see what he needed. 

“Val, will you go downstairs and bring me the old chess table my mother gave us?” He asks. Cleaning blood out of the basement tile would be far easier than cleaning it out of the carpet. She nods her head as she sets the vacuum cleaner to rest, likely wondering why he couldn’t do it when he had just been sitting on the couch anxiously watching the news just seconds ago. But, he knew she loved him. She’d do anything for him, including die that night to save his life. He quietly stepped behind her, following her at a distance until she made it just to the top of the stairs. It’s then that he has his last minute change of heart.

In one violent movement he grabs her by the back of her neck. Her gasp cuts right through him, and the guilt weighs heavily upon his shoulders as he brings her back and shoves her as hard as he can from the top step. It was his hope that the fall from the top of the basement stairs to the concrete floor would kill her, snap her neck and he wouldn’t have to see the horrified look in her eye as she died. He wanted to spare himself the intimacy of stabbing the woman he loved more than anything to death, but the moment her body free fell down the first few stairs, collided with the hard, wooden middle steps, and then tumbled down with sickening thuds every time her body bounced off of the wood, Ben comes to regret not running away like his gut told him to.

It’s made even worse when a moan comes from the bottom of the step, and Valorie picks her head up and cuts a look of ground breaking betrayal right at him. She screamed his name, and Ben knew there was no going back. He rushed down the stairs, knife in hand as his wife tossed and turned away from him, gurgling and crying out in pain the entire time. Ben’s clouded vision isn’t enough to stop him. His ears ring and drown out her suffering, and he finds he’s moving on autopilot as he pins her down and lifts the square shaped knife high above his head. 

_ I’m so, so sorry Val _ . He can’t bring himself to say it out loud. Seconds later the knife comes down, and he expects it to land on her neck and sever her jugular vein just as he wants. It makes contact with something, but the lack of red liquid in his vision tells him it’s not what he wants. He reaches up to clear his vision, smearing a small amount of blood from his hand in his eye and sees that the only part of Valorie that’s bleeding is her hand. Pushing her down the stairs had only stunned her so much, but she was still able to fight back. He shifts, holding her hand down and bringing the knife behind his head only to slice the side of her other arm open. She groans, reaches up and wraps her fingers around his fist that held the knife, and he loses it. 

Ben sobs. His body wracks with the ugliest tears he’s ever shed. Beneath him, Valorie shakes, stutters, and pleads with him in the smallest of voices. He had the power here. He could end this once and for all.

And that’s what he did. He put the monstrosity to rest.

The same night Ben shows up to the Men’s Association with literal blood on his hands. His gait is slow and sluggish, and he allows the murder weapon to dangle limply at his hip. His wife’s blood drips slowly after him, creating a trail behind him. Haunting him. Reminding him of his cruel deed. He opens the meeting room as the other men sit around in a circle with cigars and all eyes are immediately raised to him. The knife clanks to the wooden floor at his feet, and Diz stands from the center of it all. An evil grin curls upon Diz’s lips, and with a single nod of his head he asks the crucial question. 

_ Is it done?  _ Ben imagined what he said, to which he nodded back.

_ It is done.  _ He responds wordlessly. That night, Benjamin Solo’s Stepford Wife rose from the ashes of Valorie Solo. 

The black hair was glued to its silicone skin. The voice box was installed. The contacts were tweaked to be just the right shade of brown, and once everything was said and done, Valorie was brought back to life. Ben stands just a few inches away as the doll is risen, sitting up and staring right at him. It smiles, showing off a blood red pair of lips that the real Valorie would never be caught dead wearing. 

“Hello, Benjamin,” It says in a sultry, low voice. Ben twitches, closes his eyes and takes it what he had done. 

“Welcome to the Stepford family, Benny boy,” Diz slaps him on the back proudly, but he had no reaction. Instead, he’s left to take his new toy home with no time to acclimate to his new status. That night, Benjamin and the new Valorie Solo both walk out of the Men’s Association with their new lives ahead of them, and Ben feels safe knowing his secret remains tucked deeply inside of him.

_ It doesn’t walk anything like her.  _ Beside him, the heels of her black pumps click loudly across the asphalt as she puts one foot in front of the other like a supermodel on a runway, mocking him every step of the way.  _ It doesn’t look anything like her.  _ The robot never stopped smiling from the moment it was turned on to the moment it sat in the passenger seat of Ben’s car.  _ It doesn’t sound anything like her.  _ Ben jumps in the middle of driving home as it turns its head toward him in one perfect, inhuman motion. Over the quiet sounds of the road he can hear the gears ticking in its neck, and he once again wants to cry.

“You look incredibly handsome tonight, Benjamin,” It said in the same wanton voice he had heard it speak in upon waking up. He didn’t have the strength to humor it. It didn’t have feelings to be humored, and it wouldn’t care if he didn’t reply. His knuckles blanche as he grips the steering wheel a little too hard. He didn’t know how long he could live with this, but he had to find a way out soon. He had to do it for Valorie. 

_ Valorie. _

This is what Valorie would want him to do.

The first night home with the animatronic, Ben found himself spending as little time with it as he could. From the moment it stepped into his home, it went to work on the housework. Its breasts jiggled in the little black dress as it walked straight to the vacuum Valorie had left out and turned it on, finishing up the job she had done with the same smile plastered upon its face. Its movements were so fluid, so predictable, and so not like Valorie’s that it made Ben feel sick. He couldn’t bear to be in the same room as the monstrosity that wasn’t his wife, so he retired for the evening. 

He lay in bed that night completely haunted by what he had done that day. The contorted, ghastly, look of betrayal that adorned her face as he held her down paired with the horrible moans, groans, and screams that were born from her throat while he complied with the Men’s Association’s wishes were something he couldn’t clear from his mind. After sitting in bed for what seemed like hours, Ben only managed to find just a little bit of rest after crying himself to sleep. How would he ever forgive himself? How would he fix this? Most importantly, how would Valorie find it within herself to forgive him? He awoke the next morning to an impossibly clean house and these questions burning in his mind.

And his Stepford Wife sitting still dressed in her little black dress and heels, smiling at him from the couch where she likely sat all night long. 

The next few days were all a blur. Just shy of the one week mark, Ben had gone through a major wave of emotions. Denial at the fact that he had done this with his own two hands. Anger at the cheap imitation of the woman he loved. Bargaining with the higher powers he believed in to lift this weight off his shoulders and allow him to start over. Depression when he realized he could do nothing to fix what he had done, and acceptance in the form of using the animatronic for its intended uses.

He would come home to a spotless home and a meal every day, and he would smile when it would place it in front of him. He chose not to think about how the meals were subpar, about how they were never cooked with the fresh ingredients Valorie grew herself in her garden outside. He chose not to think about the loneliness that would engulf him as the robot set out to cleaning the home day and night, doing his laundry, and so on. He would thank it when it would say he was handsome, or doing a good job at work, or wish him a good day, but that was it. He simply could not get into the idea that this life sized toy was supposed to be his wife, especially when it began to malfunction just a few days into its new life.

The Association had never prepared him to turn around and find it winking at him, when in fact it was meant to be blinking. He had to physically reach underneath its eyelid and fix the mechanics to get it to work again, which is something he’d never have to do for his real wife. Not only this, but he would also have to tell it to go sit on its charger every night, lest he come home from work and find his oven nearly caught on fire or the animatronic simply standing over him in the middle of the night as it tried to come to bed. Sometimes the voice box would skip or get stuck. Sometimes one of the fingers would not move. Just like every animatronic out there, even the ones built by the Disney Company, break downs would happen and Ben would have to be the one to fix them. He truly could not stand it and didn’t understand how the other men dealt with it either. But on the eve of the anamatronic’s one week anniversary with Ben, he realized he had been putting off one important element to the Association’s reasoning to create these monstrosities in the first place. He only fully indulged himself in what the robot really could offer him at the end of the week, and he used it as a means of distracting himself from the nightmare he had created.

It was obedient as it undressed itself for him. As it spread its silicone covered mechanical legs it purred about how badly it wanted him inside of it. It was so unlike Valorie, but Ben set forth in having it anyway. This is what they played up in the Men’s Association. This is what the perfect end goal was to be. An animatronic wife that would cook, clean, and keep you satisfied while doing it. Ben closed his eyes as he plunged himself deep into its cold silicone sleeve. He ran his hands up and down its clammy, inhuman skin as it let out manufactured calls of pleasure. 

_ Remember to always clean it out after every round, or else it gets nasty.  _

_ It’ll help if you add lube beforehand. _

_ It’ll be into anything you want it to be in. Just command it and it’s yours. _

The reminders from the other men from the Association filtered through his mind. It made him sick. This wasn’t his wife, and he couldn’t bear the thought of making love to someone who wasn’t her. 

“Is something not to your liking, Benjamin?” It asked as it stood up after him. He hurried for his clothing that sat pitifully on the floor next to the bed, ignoring it every step of the way. This is what pushed him over the edge. This is what did him in. He simply could not continue with this farce of a life that had been created for him. He began to panic, pulling his clothes on as quick as he could and dahsing from his bedroom. With tears in his eyes he headed toward the kitchen to down a glass of water, but on his way there he passed by the door to the basement.

The basement. He hadn’t been down in his basement since that fateful night. She was still down there, rotting away just as he left her to. He stared at the door, shaking as he realized, at some point or another, he’d have to face his demons. For nearly a week now he could hear her soul calling out to him, tormenting him from behind this door. The failed encounter with the doll had made him realize that his acceptance of its presence wouldn’t truly begin until he rid his home of the body of his former wife. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, and he knew it wouldn’t completely fix his woes, but he knew it would have to be done. And why put it off another night? Why not take care of this tonight so that he could simply move on in life? He advanced to the kitchen, took a few gulps of water before grabbing a towel from the linen closet and moving back toward the basement. This had to be done, and he was going to do it now to find even the smallest bit of peace.

Upon opening the door Ben was shocked at the smell. He expected the smell of death to waft from the darkness and caress his face lovingly, inviting him down to see his creation but there was nothing. It smelled like nothing and it sounded like nothing. It made Ben all the more nervous as he began descending the steps, but he couldn’t stop. The memories of that night began to flood back to him, and with every step he feels a mounting need to cry. He would have given anything to go back in time and never set foot in Stepford, but now he had to deal with the consequences. He reached the bottom of the step and found that her body was not where he had left it, which he expected because he had not left her fully dead. 

He simply could not bring himself to overpower her and end her life, so instead he tied her up, bound and gagged her and left her on the cold basement floor to die a lonely, horrible, and painful death. He figured starving her and depriving her of water would be far easier than stabbing her to death, and it would be less inclusive of him. He figured she would be able to crawl around even with her restraints, which is exactly what had happened. With the glow of the hall light from upstairs he sees her legs crossed over one another at the far end of the basement against the wall, and he feels his heart come to a standstill. She was dead, and he would now have to transport her body to the mass grave where the other Stepford Wives now lived. He inched closer to her, his bare feet smacking against the concrete until he saw something that made his blood run cold in his veins.

Her foot twitched. Her knees uncrossed. Her entire body began to turn toward him. From the other end of the basement a quiet moan could be heard, and it was enough to almost make Ben turn and run from his failed murder attempt. But he couldn’t. This was his  _ wife.  _ The woman he had been wishing he had back for the last week. She was here, and she was alive! Without another thought Ben rushed over to the corner of the basement, dropped to his knees and took in the sight of his wife lying there on her back, looking up at him. She was weak, withering away by the second and in much worse condition than when he left her. She groaned from under the duct tape, blinked at him a few times and Ben knew what he had to do. With no hesitation at all he stood quickly to his feet and rushed up the stairs. He had his wish. He had to fix this.

How she managed to survive almost six full days without water or food, retrained on the floor of a dark, damp basement, Ben didn’t know. She had been clinging to life and Ben had to save her. At the moment, the only thing he had on his mind was to take care of the woman he loved. He threw open the cabinet and grabbed the first cup he could find, filled it with water from the tap, then moved into the fridge where he grabbed a cup of pudding and spoon from the counter top. With his hands full of everything he ran back down the stairs and collapsed next to his wife again. Everything clatters to the floor beside him as his hands grip her shoulders and he gently works to sit her up. He can feel the bones poking out of her skin. Clearly her muscle had wilted away after being sedentary for the last week, and the lack of nutritional intake didn’t help either. Once she was slumped against the wall, staring at him with needy, nervous eyes, he reached for the tape that had kept her silent this entire time. He began to peel it from the corner of her mouth, but stopped so suddenly when he realized he needed to do one last thing first. 

His hand went from the tap to the side of her sunken cheeks, running his palm slowly down the side of her face in a comforting gesture. He realized that once the tape was off and the cloth gag was removed from her mouth, she’d be able to scream, yell, and holler at him. Before she could do that, he wanted to sincerely apologize for all of the pain he had caused her.

“Val, my wife, my partner, my love,” He stammers, feeling tears well in his eyes. In response Valorie began to quake there in front of him. “I, I know you probably don’t and won’t trust me or forgive me, and I don’t expect you to. I know what I’ve put you through is worse than any kind of torture anyone could endure, but I want you to know, that I’m sorry.” He starts, and a quiet, muffled moan comes from underneath her tape. “I’m sorry. I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry. The Men’s Association. Diz, he, he wanted…” He started, but realizes he doesn’t have the capacity to go into the full explanation. All he needed to do was say he was sorry and vow to fix this for her, but even that was proving to be too difficult. From above them, the sound of the floor creaking can be heard. The animatronic had seen itself out of the bedroom and was walking around, and when he heard it his heart broke. To think Valorie had been down here the entire time, listening to both him and the doll walking around and living life while she was confined to one small area of the basement hurt him so much. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he ran his hand to the rope that bound her hands together, freeing her so he could hold her frail hand, and he looked deep into her eye to drive his last point home.

“They lied to me. She,  _ it,  _ is nothing like you. It looks like you, but its not you,” Valorie’s eyebrows knit down and she shook her head lightly in confusion, but Ben’s in too deep to stop now. “I miss you. I want  _ you.  _ Your warmth, your body, your personality, your voice. I miss everything about the human you.” This time, he gets a pained moan in response. She looks away as he brought her hand up in between them, and for the first time he can see that the scars he had inflicted onto her had not healed. They were dark, warm, and crusted, seeping and must have been causing her so much pain. Guilt washes over Ben as he holds her hand tight, and he sobs over his transgressions. Valorie lets out a horrified gurgle as well. “I’m so sorry. I just want to be happy again. I want what we had. I want out of Stepford and away from the murderous men in the Men’s Association. Valorie, I want--” He began to sob away, but the sound of the basement door opening and a light shining down onto them breaks his conversation.

“Benjamin?” The animatronic calls for him at the top of the stairs. Ben looks over his shoulder at it, and at the same time Valorie is introduced for the thing that was brought into her home to replace her. “Would you like me to run you a bath?” It inquires, but Ben has no intention to answer her. He turns toward the real Valorie only to be crushed when he finds her face pale as a ghost staring at herself standing at the top of the stairs. This time, Ben had nothing to say and no way to explain himself. Instead he reached for the tape on the corner of her mouth so that he could take care of her. Now she could wail, scream, and cry as loud as she wanted to. Ben knew she deserved it after what she had been through.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be the first to admit it, but I don't really understand what a Pastice is supposed to be. I tried my hardest to imitate Levin's writing style, and evidently I did well because I got a 100 percent lol. My professor's only comment was:  
> "OH MY GOD!!!! IT'S SO CREEPY!!!! I love it, It's like everything that was left out of the book explicitly, the blood , the sex, you dove right in and somehow made it not feel gratuitous and instead made it really feel like Levin. I love the ending of her staring at herself at the top of the stairs. And I think the idea that there is no way that sex would feel the same is a crucial point."  
> I swear that's what she wrote me word for word. I'm so proud of myself.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
